


you can die but you’re never dead, spiderweb

by Inmate487



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, But doesn’t get much further than it does in this, Multi, Violence, it’s kind of graphic, pervy evil guys, really different timeline, this the sort of the middle of the story, very tarantino of me to start it this way
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-08
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2020-08-11 21:51:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20160658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inmate487/pseuds/Inmate487
Summary: how little one decision can change so much.A war has had gone on for a great many years, and now we find ourselves in it’s endgame.





	you can die but you’re never dead, spiderweb

Through a mouthful of blood and perhaps a few teeth, Albus called for Scorpius.

The seventeen year old prodigy was locked in a duel with one of the dark robed figures, his face a mask of concentration, eyes alight with fury uncharacteristic. Albus pushed past a knot of witches and wizards, wand aloft, coming to his side just as an almighty roar shook the Earth. The Great Hall’s roof was splitting open, pouring dust and stone upon the battle beneath. The darkly clouded night sky above was now visible in full, the enchantment upon the ancient roof now broken. The man they were dueling flinched as the dust came down, and Albus and Scorpius both took their chance, launching spells at him. The man flew backwards, a burning hole punched into his chest. He crashed into the opposing wall with a crunch and slid down, dead.

‘He is faceless. He is evil. He deserved it.’ 

Albus told himself this on repeat, as he and Scorpius turned to the tangle of duels behind themselves; Teddy was locked in battle with Jugson, but with one single flick Jugson fell, blood leaking from behind his mask. Teddy’s eyes focused on Albus, and he nodded simply. The three struck out at every Death Eater within reach.

Above them, a twirling comet of black smoke entered the hole in the Great Hall’s roof with a maniacal, shrieking cackle that seemed to cut above the din of sharp spellfire and explosions. The comet flew over the battle with little concern for it, entering the castle halls through the wooden doors. Members of the Order cast spells at it where they could, but it was too quick, too erratic. It flew upwards along the grand staircase, before stopping above one of the banisters, furiously roiling, and then resolving into a wild eyed woman with equally wild hair. Her face was split into a mad grin, displaying only rotted teeth. With a sharp crack, two figures appeared on the staircases opposite. 

“Black!” Screamed a deep voice, as the woman deflected one of his spells. “Be more precise on your spellwork, fool-“

“Speak for yourself, Snivellus!” Sirius roared back, dodging a cloud like spell that rocketed to the wall behind him, spiderwebbing along it, before the stone it touched simply vanished, leaving behind the erratic pattern cut into the stone. “Oi, Bella, you bitch!” Sirius yelled, launching a red jet of light careening toward Lestrange; she cast it away with yet another cackle.

“Oh, the traitors two, yes, yes traitors two-“ she sang wildly, her shields holding against even Snape’s most esoteric spells.

“Stop laughing, woman!” Snape snarled, blasting the banister under her. As cracks began to spread upwards to her feet, she laughed even harder, black smoke beginning to form around her.

“Catch me!” She began, but Sirius screamed with the exertion of his spell, and a blue light soared impossibly fast, striking her just above her heart.

Though the smoke continued billowing around her, Bellatrix’s smile faltered; as the banister crumbled away, she too plummeted, motionless, the light leaving left her eyes before she hit the stone floor far below.

“You- you did it.” Snape said, breathing heavily, impressed despite himself. Black could merely smile smugly.

“Stopping her heart was too kind, but it was all I could think of. D’ya think I should’ve-“

Before he could continue his sentence, a scream was heard high above; the two men looked up, prepared to battle more, and saw a flaming Death Eater body falling from the highest staircase, arms moving in vain to find purchase.

On the highest staircase, seventeen year old Hugo Weasley still had his wand pointed at the place the Death Eater had been, skin pale, eyes wide. In the room behind him, he could only hear the sounds of mourning.

Ron Weasley stood above the gathered people, his face not unlike his own son’s. Dean Thomas was sobbing and screaming unintelligibly, cradling the body of Seamus Finnigan, as Luna Lovegood kept her hands on his shoulders, trying hard to keep her own tears at bay and whispering to Dean.

“It’s okay Dean, it’s okay- he’s in a nice place now, they can’t ever hurt him again- think of Conor, Dean, he needs you more than ever- he’ll still be there, in your heart Dean- I know he will-“

Ron has seen many deaths. But so very few had inspired bile to rise up in his throat quite like this one. Tonks and Lupin, sure. Dedalus Diggle as well. And of course, Fred and Percy. And now this, this upon the list of all the others- Ron felt rage building up inside him, quelling the acidic burn of his stomach, telling him to kill kill kill kill kill goddammit kill them all those bastard death eaters kill them-

“Ron please- we have to go- Ron, Ronald, look at me- we have to go!” Hermione was saying, tears in her eyes. Hermione. His Hermione. Ron stares at her, at the tears, and his rage quelled somewhat. Their children needed them now.

Outside the windows, the roar of a giant was heard, and the windows cracked with the shockwave of a giant explosion.

George watched from his broom unemotionally as the giant cracked apart with a blast of blue fire and sparks. Oliver hooted and hollered with victory, and George felt some of that. But the black hole within him was demanding more, more, more, more, more, more-

Without looking, he aimed his wand at the Death Eater behind them- the idiot clearly didn’t know how to cast a damned nonverbal spell- and snuffed him out with a flash of green light. Oliver flew forwards and George followed, dodging spells as the Death Eaters struggled to keep up with the two. George chanced a look and saw a great number of them, actually, so he bore down on his broom, aiming wildly over his shoulder. He and Oliver turned sharply around the remains of the Dark Tower, and he heard the splats and crunches of Death Eaters that had been too slow, but now nearly enough. He knew more would be behind him. He chanced another look.

Bright fire erupted among their ranks, and through it flew Angelina Johnson, wand out, her face lined with cold intensity as she cast flaming death from her wand. 

The three dipped just under Gryffindor Tower, unaware of the window above them blasting open.

James Sirius was dueling for his life, because Dolohov stood across from him, wild-eyed and crazed. Dolohov, who had killed Remus and Tonks. Dolohov, who had killed uncle Fred. Dolohov, who had tried to kill James’ little sister.

“Such young flesh!” Dolohov yelled, easily striking James’ spell away. “How I long to touch it-“ 

But James knew what to do, and cut Dolohov short with a gouging curse. Dolohov doubled over, hand over what had been his eye. James disarmed the Death Eater.

“_Petrificus Totalus!_” He yelled, and Dolohov fell to the ground, frozen. Breathing heavily, James walked over to Antonin, eyes blazing with rage. He stomped on Dolohov’s right hand, finding relief in the crunch. Dolohov could only grunt slightly. James did it again, but there wasn’t much more to break.

So he moved to the other hand.

Crunch. Crunch.

“Try to touch her now, you sick fuck.” James said calmly, then filled the man’s lungs with water. James watched Dolohov’s eyes, at the terror, the pure terror. James could only hope Remus, Tonks and George stood around him and watched too.

In the tower nearest to the Gryffindor Tower, Lucius Malfoy cradled his Firewhisky tightly, sitting in the grand old wooden chair once occupied by some of the greatest witches and wizards of all time. He watched the grounds outside of the window, at the fire and the fury. At the defeat of the forces that were once considered so great. He took a long and slow sip, relishing the burn. Where he was going, the burn probably wouldn’t be so pleasurable.

“Have you ever felt regret?”

Lucius is not startled by his son’s voice. He’d rather expected it, in fact. Lucius Malfoy wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. He considers for a long moment, not turning around to look at the man.

“It is something to be buried, to be locked away and forgotten. A sad thing, that.”

“Having to lock it away?”

“No. It is a sad thing that I never taught you to do it.”

There’s a long pause. Any time now. Lucius anticipates it, his fight or flight response kicking in, but he ignores the urge with all of his might. He empties his glass in one final pull, and closes his eyes.

“Do you feel it now, at not having been right?” There’s a tightness to his son’s voice, only barely suppressing the rage. Lucius wonders if this will be cathartic for the boy. With perhaps the only fatherly thought he’s ever had, he sincerely hopes it will be.

“My boy... right is relative.”

There is another pause.

Lucius can see the green light through his eyelids, and then a blessed darkness.


End file.
